


Careful

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - General [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babies, Children, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nymphae need almost complete solitude for approximately a week after giving birth. John didn't know that six years ago. This time, he's been much more careful about giving Sherlock his space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful

Sherlock and the newborn had been back in Potter Cottage for five days. But had yet to leave the bedroom. John was, for a change, happy to have the house elf around to help. And Lily, of course, made her presence felt whenever possible. Checking on her brother and new nephew’s health discretely.   
       The twins hadn’t seen their father since he’d been taken to the hospital. They didn’t understand how important it was that their father and new brother be as alone as possible. John understood, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted to be in there all the time. But like when the twins were born, this was a delicate time for Sherlock. He needed to remain in constant, almost unbroken contact with the child for a minimum of a week before others could become involved.   
       John wanted nothing more than to go into the room and hold his new son. Cradle him in his arms and watch him sleep.   
       But, as he dressed that morning, he glanced at the six year old scar on his forearm. A reminder of how violently protective nymphs are of their offspring so soon after birth. No, John would not make that same mistake again.   
       He was thinking on this, sitting in the back garden as the twins were playing. He heard a door open behind him and Lily clear her throat before calling him. “John?”   
       He turned his head, looking back at her. She looked tired. Exhausted. “Is he alright?” John asked, rising from the wicker chair and crossing quickly to the door, worried for his husband and child’s welfare. “Are they-”   
       She smiled, placing a hand reassuringly on his arm. “They’re both fine,” she said. “Tired, but fine.”   
       ”Then what-”   
       ”He’s asking for you. And rather upset that you haven’t been in already.”   
       ”I’m rather attatched to my limbs,” John replied with a smile. “And the twins?”   
       She shook her head, glancing past him. “Not yet. Sherlock may be fine, but Hamish… I’ll be honest, John. I haven’t exactly dealt with this sort of-”   
       ”It’s alright. You’ve done fine so far. And I… We really appreciate it. We know you’re supposed to be with the Harpies right now, but Sherlock-”   
       ”Is a very stubborn older brother who doesn’t trust most people. He wouldn’t even allow his normal healer to see him through the recovery period. You’re just lucky he loves his baby sister so much.”   
       John nodded before jumping in surprise when the house elf appeared beside him suddenly. “Master John. Master John, you needs to be goings up now. Master Severus, sir, he says he’s going to eat Caddy if she comes near little master Hamish again!” the house elf wailed. “Caddy only meant to give Master clean blanket for baby!”   
       ”Can you?” he asked Lily, who nodded.   
       ”It’s dangerous up there!” she called back to him when he hurried inside. “Take the tea and a bottle with you!”   
       He stopped in the kitchen long enough to grab the tray, checking the tea to make sure it was still warm before carefully taking it up the stairs. He stopped outside the door of the bedroom that he had not been allowed back into since Sherlock and the baby had come home. Finally, he drew a deep breath. Released it slowly, and adjusted the tray so he could open the door.   
       ”That had better be John Watson and he had better have some bloody tea!” roared Sherlock from where he sat in a chair beside the bed. The drapes were drawn, and the room cast in a soft yellow light from the lamp beside the bed.   
       ”Quiet or you’ll wake him,” John said as he carefully closed the door back. The room smelled a bit, but it was expected since it had been in constant use for five days. Sherlock’s hard stare followed him as he passed through the room. Stopping to set the tray on top of a chest of drawers so he could fix Sherlock a cup of tea. Just the way he liked it.   
       He tucked the bottle under one arm and carried two cups of tea to his husband. The cold, angry stare was kept on him as he set the cups down on the bedside table, then offered the bottle. Sherlock took it, touching his fingers to John’s before pulling it away.   
       ”Why did you not come sooner?” he asked coldly.   
       John sighed, sitting on the side of the bed facing his husband. “Because last time you tried to rip my arm off for trying to hold my daughter. Bit not good, Sherlock. I didn’t want a repeat performance.”   
       Sherlock was quiet. Contemplative as he sat, looking at John all the while before finally, his concentration was broken by a sudden, almost quiet whimpering. Those were silenced very quickly with a bottle to the mouth. “He does that.”   
       ”He’s a baby. He does little else right now,” John said.   
       Sherlock only nodded in agreement, glancing again at John. “You could have sat nearby.”   
       ”Again, I like my arms where they are, thank you. And did you threaten to eat the house elf?”   
       ”I… May have said something to that effect, yes.”   
       John scooted to the edge with as warm and as reassuring a smile as he could give. “When you’ve gotten back in your right mind, you’re going to have to apologize.”   
       ”I am in my right mind.”   
       John knew better than to argue the point right now. So instead he nodded toward them. “Can I come a bit closer?”   
       Sherlock released a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to rip your limbs off, John.”   
       Taking that for as good an answer as he was going to get, John got back to his feet and edged closer. Slowly and carefully, until he was standing at his husband’s side, looking down at the bundle in his arms. A scraping sound came from behind him, and he looked back to see a wooden chair waiting for him. He pulled it even closer to Sherlock’s chair and sat. Tentatively he leaned in to get a better look at his new son. “He’s so… big.”   
       ”There was only one of him and two of the others. Of course his size would be larger without the handicap of sharing a small confined-”   
       ”I’m a doctor, love. I know the science of why he’s bigger.”   
       ”Yes, well…” and he trailed off. “Hold him, if you like.”   
       John looked back at his face. Trying to figure out if it was actually safe to do so, or if Sherlock was talking out of his head agian. Finally, he scooted his chair around to in front of his husband, scooted closer, and held his arms out.   
       At first, Sherlock didn’t want to let go. But the rational part of his mind, the part that was relentlessly trying to overpower his creature instincts for the past few months, was constantly yelling at him in the cavernous halls of his mind palace. Screaming at him, to get the point across, that it was just John and the world wasn’t going to end. And, as an afterthought, reminding Sherlock not to rip his husband’s arms off for touching his own baby.   
       Finally, the child was transferred over, and John sat back. Cradling the boy gently and holding the bottle so he didn’t take too much at once. “Kid can really eat,” John said. “At least he’s got more of an appetite than his father.”   
       Sherlock tried to relax. He managed to half-way sink into the chair, exhaustion starting to set in. But he remained awake and alert, listening for any other sounds besides what came from this room.   
       ”He’s so quiet, too.”   
       ”Hmm…. yes,” Sherlock replied. “He doesn’t cry. The healers were worried at first, until he tried to bite one.”   
       ”He hasn’t teeth.”   
       ”Didn’t stop him from trying,” Sherlock said with a tired smirk, allowing his eyes to slide closed just for a little. “Don’t… Don’t let the twins in yet.” He didn’t need to see John to know he was nodding. “Not for a few more days.”   
       ”You can rest in the bed, you know. I’ve actually looked after a baby before. Two, in fact.”   
       ”No.”   
       ”Then drink your tea.” John took the bottle away when the baby turned its head some and snuggled its cheek against his chest. “And that’s it for you then I suppose,” he said softly. Sherlock took the bottle, leaving it beside his tea. After very gently burping the child, he settled him back into the cradle of his arms. Watching his chubby little cheeks and holding a tiny little hand.   
       It was then, John finally noticed the fabric of the baby blanket. “Sherlock?”   
       ”Hm?” the man hummed sleepily from his chair.   
       ”Is this my… did you cut up one of my jumpers?”   
       ”He was being fussy. I couldn’t find where I’d set his blanket. Your jumper was left in the chair.”   
       ”Ah. I see… It was one of my favorites.”   
       Sherlock smiled, opening ashen eyes to see John still smiling down at their son. “Yes,” he said. “It’s his favorite, too.”


End file.
